


Patron

by Moonalight



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types
Genre: Reader-Insert, Requested fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:29:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26417224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonalight/pseuds/Moonalight
Summary: You are a humble pickpocket just trying to work. When a man in a suit with curly strawberry blonde hair and mischievous blue eyes becomes your target, you don't think much of it. So why is this man appearing like magic and calling himself 'Hermes'? And why is he claiming to be your patron?
Kudos: 9





	Patron

******  
It had been a while since you’d seen such an obvious target. He was different from most of the folk that wandered these streets. Unlike the modestly dressed plebeians walking around him as he talked on his phone, he was wearing an intricately sewn suit. It was such an odd combination to the rest of him though. 

He was tanned, as though he traveled often. Unlike most businessmen he didn’t have neat hair either. His strawberry blonde curls were wild and untamed, but there was something about him...

The slightest upturn of his mouth as he talked, the glitter of mischief in sky blue eyes that you didn’t see in most adults. Like he was ready and waiting for something exciting to start. 

Of course, you mostly chose to focus on the shimmer once it caught your eye. The shimmer of expensive metal around his wrist. Faint sunlight flashed off of it as he waved his hand around while speaking to whoever was on the other side of the phone. It looked like pure silver; good taste.

You pulled at your sweatshirt’s hood, yanking it up to hide your face as you began to slip casually into the city flow of people. Not one glance, one look back in your direction. He was facing away as you used the crowd to move closer. 

His hand lowered to his side, silver open and ready for extraction. It was so easy. These uppity types never believed anyone would dare try to lift from them. You move closer as you pass, purposefully letting the sole of your shoe catch on one of the cracks in the sidewalk. 

When you tripped, you aimed your body straight into his side. Both of you are pushed by the flow of people, stumbling over trying to catch your balances. In the commotion it was child’s play to get what you wanted. The clasp of the watch was well taken care of, oiled and cleaned. It took barely a second to unclasp it while making it look like you were just grabbing onto him for support. 

Straightening up, the precious metal was safely hidden away in the pocket of your jeans before he even had a chance to realize the new lightness of his hand. 

“Sorry!” You gasp the word, letting your eyes widen in false guilt. It was an easy act. A word here, a motion there, and nobody was the wiser. Too focused on the performance to realize what was missing until it was too late.

“Ah-it’s fine.” He surprisingly didn’t start shouting like most office men would when put into such a situation. Instead he smiled, looking down at you kindly as the lines of people continued to flow around the two of you. His eyes were still glittering, but they almost seemed brighter now. 

Unconsciously you took a step back, some of the act falling away as you got this strange tingle in your spine. Though he didn’t do anything and he’d actually reacted pleasantly, there was this sense of danger in your mind. The same as when police would patrol nearby or you would have to move through gang territories. 

Another step back. People separated you from each other, cutting off the clear view you had of a man that seemed greatly amused by something. 

The moment you began to lose sight of him, you were gone. It was hard to work your way through the crowd without pushing people aside. There was this itch in your chest that something important had just happened, but you had no clue why that was. 

That intruding feeling didn’t dissipate as you fled. Because it was fleeing, not the organized ducking out of sight you would usually do. Whatever you felt had you running. A few bumped shoulders, a few real stumbles, and then you were practically throwing yourself out of the river of humans.

Your steps echoed as you sprinted down the alleyway. Weaving, so as to avoid the trash bags and broken glass scattered everywhere. No shouts sounded from behind just yet. No policemen or pursuers. 

Yet you couldn’t push away the idea that you’d been caught. 

As you dragged your feet to a stop, holding yourself up against the brick wall to catch your breath, slow clapping began to sound. It had you raising your head, eyes widening in shock when the source was located. 

Just a few feet in front of you, leaning casually against an old, rusty dumpster, was the strawberry blonde businessman. He was still smiling. It was a grin that almost seemed proud, the excited aura of a sport’s fan surrounding him. Like he was a hardcore fan and his team had just won the game via one final shot.

“Well done,” he cheered, lowering his hands and stepping closer, “though you could’ve just as easily chosen a stealthier approach.”

No words came to you. Your lungs were still grasping desperately for air, chest heaving as your body came down from the adrenaline. Even if that wasn’t the case, there weren’t many words to be said. 

Somehow this man had cut you off. He wasn’t breathless or winded in the least, still completely calm and relaxed. And he had come after you. That meant he knew. 

“I get it,” he continued, seemingly oblivious to your current terror as he waved his hands airily, “It’s a good distraction, really! But it runs the risk of your target seeing your face, catching on quicker, or even grabbing onto you if they know what to look for when it comes to picking pockets. Well, wrists, in your case.” 

Your hand naturally moved down to rest over the filled jean pocket you had placed the treasure in. The bulge was still there, the watch still completely hidden. What was going on?

“I give you a seven out of ten,” the man decided, straightening his suit jacket despite the fact it was still perfect, “there are a few things you were missing, and your technique was a little amateurish. Overall though, you have promise.”

Finally you gave up on trying to understand the guy since he wasn’t making any sense. You gathered as much air as you could, straightening up away from the wall as you looked him over again. Nothing had changed. He was the same as he had been while talking on the phone. It was definitely the same man. 

The same man that had magically appeared in front of you. 

“Okay,” you say finally, watching the way he cocked his head curiously when you finally spoke, “I give up. Are you asking for your watch back? Or are you just stalling until the police get here?”

“The police?” He echoed your words, chuckling slightly as though you were sharing a joke and not inquiring about the threat of your freedom, “Why would I? The watch is hardly important either, what is important is the fact that you were lucky enough to steal from me.”

“Oh?” You raise an eyebrow without thinking at that. Your tone became slightly disbelieving as you went on, “And just who do I have the honor of meeting? A prestigious CEO or company hog?” 

“Neither,” his grin became somewhat sharper, more dangerous. Again you felt an inexplicable emotion come over you, warning you that he was dangerous. You watch carefully as he spread his arms, holding them out like a showman presenting his prized props. 

“I am a god. Hermes, patron of thieves, here to bless.” 

Ah, now you understand. 

Clearly you’d picked the pocket of a nutcase. It was bound to happen sooner or later. But what do you do in these cases? Call an insane asylum? You’d rather not deal with the police if it came to that. 

So instead, you just turned around. Waving over your shoulder, “Okay then. Forgive me Lord Hermes, but I have a few more errands to complete today. Have a great day, and all that...”

When laughter began to ring through the alleys, you were running again. This time you didn’t care if you pushed people over. You just wanted away. Not because he was threatening. No, because he almost felt...

Not a thought worth entertaining. If he came after you for his watch, you’d just give it to him. For now, distance would be a blessing. Because that man...

That man was powerful.

**Author's Note:**

> Requested story prompt! I've never written reader insert before, it was weird. Maybe I'll do more if people like this. I'm not really sure how far insert fics can really go.


End file.
